


The Improbably Tall Baby

by vials



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Twins, Crack, Gen, honestly like please do not take this seriously lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 09:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15116903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vials/pseuds/vials
Summary: “We need to hurry this up,” Violet said, looking once again at the clothing spread out around them as though it might give her some answers this time. “Despard and I will pretend to have two heads. We can say we were joined at birth. We’re the same height and we obviously look very similar. But that leaves Klaus and Sunny. If we’re known to be twins, it might get Olaf thinking in a certain direction. If he then sees another boy, and a baby, he might work us out straight away. Sunny, Klaus, you’re going to have to team up again.”Or, the four Baudelaire orphans learn to really appreciate the craft of ridiculous disguises.





	The Improbably Tall Baby

**Author's Note:**

> A word of explanation: this is a crack fic written in an alternate universe where Despard, the narrator from my longer and much more serious fic [In Case of Emergency](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14807804/chapters/34262117), is the twin brother of Violet Baudelaire. Also, while it doesn't come up in this fic, in this universe Violet and Despard are, secretly and scandalously, actually the children of Beatrice and Lemony. The story is narrated by Lemony, as though it's an alternative chapter of _The Carnivorous Carnival_ , and for further clarification, he is aware of Violet and Despard's true parentage, but the Baudelaire orphans are not. 
> 
> So now you kind of know what you're dealing with. Enjoy.

When you have researched areas as extensively as I have, you will find that a lot of places – all of them, in fact, if you look hard enough – have their own myths and legends. There are cities rumoured to have people living in sewage colonies beneath their depths; there are towns with certain streets and bridges you would not want to visit at certain times; there are small farming communities with a house long abandoned and crawling with rumours. There are areas of the ocean where planes and vessels are supposed to disappear without a trace, and there are lonely roads through stretches of wilderness where, if you happen to be driving along them at a certain time, you might look out of your window and see a figure running alongside your speeding vehicle, easily keeping place.

The hinterlands, being isolated and rather boring, has no end to such urban legends. Communities are said to be abandoned because of curses rather than famine or industry drying up, isolated homesteads are said to be the dwellings of witches or creatures beyond our nightmares, packs of starving lions are said to call part of the area their home, and a whole load of other equally terrifying rumours abound. Rest assured, of course, that I have done extensive research on all of these things, and I can safely inform you that there is nothing to worry about. My research tells me that only seventy-five per cent of these rumours are true.

The strangest thing for miles around this particular night, however, were the four Baudelaire orphans. They didn’t look strange yet, of course, but very soon they were to become the strangest thing that anyone had seen for quite some time. It is necessary, you see, to look strange when you are applying for a job as a member of a carnival freak show, and while the Baudelaires were certainly not morally alright with the idea of ridiculing those different from them in the name of entertainment, dire circumstances called for dire action, a phrase which here means “despite not wanting to, the Baudelaires were going to have to disguise themselves as freaks, and open themselves up to ridicule for being apparently different from others in the name of entertainment”. 

“I really don’t think there’s going to be anything in here that we could make a decent disguise out of,” Klaus said, frowning. “It’s just a bunch of old rags.”

“Abta,” Sunny added glumly, which probably meant something along the lines of "and it all smells awful".

“There has to be something,” Violet said firmly. She was the most exposed to the stench, being elbow-deep in the various costumes and items of clothing stored in the back of Count Olaf’s car, and her nose wrinkled as she dug deeper. “I know it’s not pleasant, but it’s the only option we have.” She pulled out a medium-sized box, opened it, and then held it out so her siblings could see. “Look. A makeup kit. That will be useful.”

Klaus took it, still looking uncertain. “I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to smell anything else.”

“If we’ve lived in Count Olaf’s house,” Violet said grimly, “we can wear some of this. What other choice do we have?”

“We could steal his car,” Despard put in. There was a beat of silence as everyone looked guiltily towards the driver’s seat. Really, there was nothing stopping them, considering Count Olaf had a terrible habit of leaving his car keys in the ignition once he had turned the engine off, and Sunny had more than satisfactorily proven her driving abilities. 

“I mean…” Violet said, glancing at her twin, who met her gaze and shrugged. 

“Just a suggestion,” he added.

“I don’t know,” Klaus said hesitantly. “I still don’t feel too great about what we did to poor Hal.”

“And we still need to know if one of our parents survived,” Violet added. 

“Atlas,” Sunny put in, meaning of course that they also had no idea where they were supposed to be going. It was obvious that it wouldn’t be practical right now, but she still shared a disappointed look with her eldest brother. 

“Smelly clothes it is,” Violet sighed, and began rummaging again. 

Eventually they had a small pile of things that might be useful for them, including most of the least smelly clothing that they could find. They quickly separated it and tried to get an idea of what would be useful, but so far the plan seemed overwhelmingly risky.

“We need to hurry this up,” Violet said, looking once again at the clothing spread out around them as though it might give her some answers this time. “Despard and I will pretend to have two heads. We can say we were joined at birth. We’re the same height and we obviously look very similar. But that leaves Klaus and Sunny. If we’re known to be twins, it might get Olaf thinking in a certain direction. If he then sees another boy, and a baby, he might work us out straight away. Sunny, Klaus, you’re going to have to team up again.”

“Then it will look like three of us,” Despard put in, “and he’ll still be looking for four.”

“But what kind of disguise could we use?” Klaus asked. “He won’t be fooled if we try the large stomach disguise again.”

“Lidi!” said Sunny, by which she meant something along the lines of "and that would mean I would have to be squashed again, which was exceedingly uncomfortable".

“You’re right,” Klaus said, smiling at his baby sister. “It wouldn’t be fair for you to be stuck again, so you should have more freedom of movement this time.”

The four children all fell silent, thinking hard. A minute passed in silence as they looked at the assortment of clothing next to them, and then suddenly Violet gave a small gasp.

“I have an idea!” she said, and her siblings looked at her expectantly. “Now, you’re going to have to trust me,” she added, “because this is a little _out there_ …”

When somebody says that something is a little _out there_ , they are not usually referring to something being outside, wherever _there_ might be in that context. This is because it would be an awkward choice of words to use, because if something was only a little outside it would probably be assumed to be partially inside, too, and that would mean that it was likely blocking some kind of door or window from being shut properly. This would likely create some kind of draft or breeze, and therefore everyone would be aware of the object’s location at all times, and they would also likely resent its being there. When someone uses the phrase _out there_ , they are likely not referring to a physical object at all, but rather a suggestion or an idea. When they say that it is _out there_ , they probably mean that it’s a little outside the box, which in turn means “this idea is unexpected and when I explain it to you, you’ll likely think that I am crazy, but please hear me out before you start offering the expected objections”.

As Violet outlined her plan, there were certainly a lot of objections that sprang to mind. Sunny found that the idea was indeed unexpected, and she could have never dreamt it up even if she thought for a million years. Klaus had many objections about the practicalities of the idea, even though he knew deep down that he couldn’t think of anything else. And Despard did wonder if his twin sister had gone completely insane, but he also recognised it as the only shot that they had. 

As is the case with most last-minute plans, it was the one that the four children went with. They were not by any means satisfied with the plan, because it felt risky and too shabbily put together, and they were sure that anyone would take one look at them and realise that they were not who they claimed to be, and as they looked at one another they were sorely tempted to abandon it altogether and go with Despard’s original plan.

“Surely nothing we find out there can be as dangerous as this,” said Klaus, though his siblings couldn’t see how troubled he looked because they couldn’t see his face at all.

“We have to try,” Despard replied. “We could get some answers here.”

“And people have been fooled by sillier disguises,” Violet said, giving a small smile. “People have been fooled by Stephano, for example.”

“Or Captain Sham,” Despard added, rolling his eyes.

“Shirley!” Sunny shrieked. 

“The list could go on,” said Violet. “We just have to have some confidence, and then people will believe us.”

“Or at the very least,” added her twin, “they’ll be unsure, and we’ll have some time.”

They might have had some time to try and gather information, but their time for planning had abruptly run out. As they turned, meaning to approach the large tent they were standing near, they realised that several people had come out of the tent and were walking directly towards them, talking among themselves. The children glanced at one another – or rather, Violet, Despard, and Sunny all shared a worried glance – and then stepped closer together, huddling nervously, hoping that their disguises would be enough. 

Count Olaf spotted them first. He stopped suddenly and swayed on his feet, and the children realised – with a flash of hope – that he was drunk. They hoped that perhaps the drink would make him less suspicious, although I am sure that the children realised such a thing would only be a brief respite, and instead of worrying about whether or not he would recognise them immediately, they would have to endure a torturous night of not knowing whether or not he would recognise them in the morning. 

“Eurgh,” Count Olaf said, a strange sound that usually denotes disgust or displeasure. “What’s this?”

There was a nervous beat of silence, and then Violet spoke up, realising that their time had well and run out for now. 

“How do you do?” she asked politely, adopting a strange accent that Despard made a mental note to copy. “My name is Beverly, and this is my other head, Elliot.”

“How do you do?” Despard asked, copying his twin’s accent perfectly. 

“And I’m Jerry,” put in Klaus, unseen, while Sunny smiled politely. Perhaps it was the drink, or perhaps it was because it was so frightfully dark outside, but Olaf barely spared them a glance. 

“We were wonderin’ about that job with the Freak Show,” said Despard.

“It said you were hirin’,” added Violet, and all four children held their breath and waited. 

There are not many things that can make something as barbaric as a job interview any worse, but being in disguise and therefore worried that you might be exposed, as well as having the job interview hosted by an incredibly vile villain, might succeed in making a previously dreadful encounter unbearable. The Baudelaire orphans had, of course, to endure both of these things, and it wasn’t until they had been lead into the large tent and the light fell upon them properly that they received the reaction to their disguises that they had been hoping for.

It is never nice to be shared at, and it is even worse to be laughed at. Such things only tend to happen when you have done something embarrassing, or when you are being put through an average day at a public high school. The Baudelaires had, I’m sure you remember, only recently come from a boarding school where they had been stared and laughed at daily, and it was no nicer to experience now, even though they knew that they were in disguise and therefore not possessing any of the traits that they were being laughed at for – not, of course, that there is anything wrong with any of the things that they were being ridiculed for. It is just a sad truth that we live in a world where people like to put others down, and try as I might I can never understand why. 

“Look!” cried Esmé. “That one has two heads!”

“And that one!” laughed the Hook-Handed Man, who of all people should have known better. “That baby is improbably tall!”

“Eurgh,” Count Olaf said again, stumbling in and turning to look at them properly. “What, is there something in the water around here or something?” He scrutinised Violet and Despard, but no recognition seemed to flicker in his eyes. “So, what’s going on here? You born like that?”

“Yes, sir,” Violet replied politely. 

“And both of your heads are…” He gestured vaguely. “ _Alive_?”

“We both function like two different people, sir,” Despard added.

“Except we’re not,” said Violet. 

“Obviously,” said Despard. 

“Gross,” said Count Olaf, very impolitely. “And what about _you_ —?” 

He broke off as he took a good look at Klaus and Sunny, and I suppose I cannot blame him for staring. There is such a thing known as a _stereotype_ , which are preconditioned ideas of things that we have because when we have previously been exposed to these things, certain traits and factors appear to be reoccurring. For example, if you had only ever had tea that was highly sweetened, you might stereotype all tea as being very sweet, when in actual fact there are many bitter teas out there, too. Or perhaps every Scottish person you met really loved to eat tomato soup, and you would claim that the Scottish love tomato soup, and every Scottish person you met you would assume loved tomato soup, when in actual fact Scotland is a country as diverse in culinary tastes as anywhere else and there are probably many Scottish people who hate tomato soup, and many more who are indifferent to it. 

As you can see, stereotypes are often false and they can also be very harmful, leading to prejudice and missed opportunities. But unfortunately they do exist, and they can exist in the strangest of places. For example, Count Olaf didn’t think it was overly odd to see a two-headed person when it came to matters concerning a freak show, the same way as he wouldn’t have bee surprised if Violet had disguised herself as a bearded lady, or Despard as a young man cursed with a terrible condition known as being ambidextrous, which is where the afflicted person is able to use both their right and their left hands equally well. He had seen such people in many freak shows, and had an idea that they were kind of a staple aspect of them, a phrase which here means “necessary for a freak show to really be called a freak show”. What he had never heard of before, however, was an Improbably Tall Baby. 

Unseen beneath an incredibly long coat, Sunny was perched upon Klaus’s shoulders. The coat reached almost to the ground, disguising the large platforms that Violet had fastened for Klaus’s shoes, so tall that Sunny was practically face to face with Olaf. The coat’s collar was popped up and Sunny was wearing a large-brimmed hat which was stuffed with scraps of fabric so it sat on her small head, and the effect made it look as though Sunny’s head was perched upon the body of fully-grown person with proportions expected of a fully-grown person, if a little skinny for their implied height. 

“My word,” Olaf eventually said, which was of course not what he said, but I do not agree with the blasé use of profanity and especially not when it is being uttered at a baby of any height. 

“We uh—” Klaus began, and somewhere under the coat Sunny kicked him. “ _I_ uh,” he corrected, “was born with a strange disorder.”

“I’d say,” Esmé said, to sniggers.

“What kind of disorder?” Olaf asked, raising his one eyebrow. “I’ve never heard of anything like this before.”

“Well, you see,” Klaus said, clearing his throat, and Olaf glanced down in that direction as though finally realising something was not quite right with Sunny’s voice. “It’s called uh, _Babium Headus Syndrome_ , and it means that while the rest of my body grew, my head stayed like a baby’s.”

Unseen by the others, Violet and Despard exchanged a worried look. They’d only had time to give themselves the most preliminary of backstories, and they didn’t realise just how much they were going to have to make up on the spot. 

“Your head, huh?” said Count Olaf thoughtfully.

“Yes, sir,” replied Klaus. “As you can see, I have the head of a small baby.”

“Well of course I can see that!” Count Olaf snapped. “Your lips don’t move as you talk.”

A beat of silence, and the Klaus awkwardly cleared his throat again.

“I uh, learned to become a ventriloquist,” he said quickly. “People were a little put off by seeing a baby speak with such a strange voice, and also I figured that I would like to be known for something other than being an improbably tall baby.”

Count Olaf leaned closer. Violet and Despard could barely breathe. It seemed like Olaf inspected their siblings for an age, which here means _a very long time_ rather than _trying to put a numerical figure to how long Klaus and Sunny’s character had been on the planet_. Finally he moved, reaching out a hand, his long fingers inching closer to Sunny’s face. It was clear to her siblings – apart from Klaus, of course – that Sunny was resisting the urge to bite him, but she managed to do so for the sake of the disguise, and therefore had to endure Count Olaf taking her cheek between two long fingers and giving it a firm pinch, much like an annoying distant great-aunt at a family reunion. 

“Hmm!” huffed Sunny, as Klaus managed to disguise it with a grunt of annoyance. Looking at him, Violet and Despard saw a flash of his glasses as he moved away from peeking through the coat. 

“Eurgh,” said Count Olaf, for the third time. “That’s definitely a baby, all right.”

“Don’t touch it, darling,” Esmé said hurriedly. “You might catch something.”

“Sir, I’d have to politely request you didn’t do that,” said Klaus. “I am a fully grown man, not a child, and I find it rather condescending when people pinch my cheeks.”

“Well,” Count Olaf said, taking a few steps back, bumping into the low table and almost toppling over it, and then righting himself again. “What do you think, Lulu? Worth an interview?”

The children finally glanced to the woman they didn’t recognise. Dressed in flowing robes and covered in jewellery, she was every bit the stereotype of a fortune teller – so much so, in fact, that even if the children hadn’t heard her name they would have known her to be one, despite the fact that they tried not to have stereotypes. 

“I’m not sure which of them is more hideous,” Lulu said, smirking. A smirk is a dreadful facial expression only worn upon the faces of the most dreadful people, like schoolyard bullies or business executives. People who are used to giving smirks often do so with great ease, and it makes their entire face look terrible. People who are not used to giving smirks can usually replicate this to a certain extent, but the smirk does not reach their eyes. Instead a degree of discomfort reaches their eyes, or perhaps shame at making themselves out to be the kind of person who smirks. This was something that the Baudelaires noticed on Madame Lulu immediately, though of course they knew better than to draw attention to it at the time, instead filing it away for later discussion. 

“Me neither,” Count Olaf agreed, looking as though all his birthdays had come at once — a phrase which here means _with great gusto, as he was excited to have someone to insult some people who were different to him with_. “Are you freaks hungry?” he added, turning to rummage around in the piles of things scattered around the room. “I’ve got some corn I want to see you try and eat.”


End file.
